


Second Place

by saltyoldgoblin



Category: Shall We Date?: Obey Me!
Genre: AKA #1, F/M, Pining, he just wants to be smitty werbenjagermanjensen, satan having the confused thoughts, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-25
Updated: 2020-03-25
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:27:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23303881
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saltyoldgoblin/pseuds/saltyoldgoblin
Summary: Second place is better than fourth, but he still can’t stop himself from wanting first.
Relationships: Satan (Shall We Date?: Obey Me!)/Original Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 68





	Second Place

She never seemed to make much sound when she danced. It was so hilariously juxtaposed to the way she usually presented herself, sometimes he wondered if there was someone else occupying her body and pulling it along on puppet strings. But that was simply who Evey was; a series of contradictions and clashing images, all more jarring than the last.

It was her wisp of shadow moving across the wall that slowed him to a stop. Only the whisper of her shoes brushing the floor could alert anyone she was in here, her leaps peppering in the muted clack of wood through worn silk. His body betrayed his good sense by luring him to the door frame, and he knew the moment she completed this series of turns he was going to be leaning against it for quite some time. 

He was never able to look away from her when she danced. It would have been like closing the book after one had already gathered the clues left by foreshadowing. It simply wasn’t done. 

There was no music today. She wore her leotard plainly, no cut-off sweater or legwarmers to interrupt the flow of her form. The tights looked new, and he’d bet every Grimm in his pocket they were gifted to her by a certain lust-addled brother of his. Her hair was pulled away from her face in a thick topknot, though a few rebellious strands managed to escape and cling to her damp brow. Only her shoes - ragged, filthy things with no discernible color - stood out as the flaw in an otherwise perfect image. 

She was performing, then. Or was imagining herself to be. Her movement always looked clean and disciplined when she thought the audience was imaginary. Nothing like the silliness it devolved into whenever his brothers set aside enough time to come watch. It was no less impressive, but also riddled with enough absurdity to keep it from being called “fine art.” 

He wondered how she would dance if she knew just how often her audience was simply him. 

A strange sort of ache bled into his chest, clenching tight enough to make his breath shallow.

It was no secret she cared for this far more than anything she’d encountered in the Devildom. The exchange program was something she did with the most fragile skeleton of effort, and a great deal of her daily interactions were done with the strained politeness of someone who was constantly seeking an excuse to leave. Not that she ever kept her true nature from poking its rude, bawdy little head out in the end, of course. 

It was always about her dancing. Her classes were just distractions, her tasks were wastes of time. As demonstratively affectionate as she was with him, his brothers, and the other exchange students, even that was occasionally rushed along so she could jump back into her pointe shoes and shut out the world for awhile.

The soft thump of her closing a leap suddenly dragged his focus back, the beautifully executed spin that followed a brutal clash of what he knew her to be. Satan couldn’t stop the snort of laughter, but she was too far gone in her mind and he continued to go unnoticed.

He was always going unnoticed. At least, in all the ways that mattered. 

For as much as he couldn’t look away from her when she danced, he’d realized with no small amount of shame that he hated losing her attention to it.

Sure, maybe she did spend more time with him than with his brothers, save perhaps Mammon. Maybe she did sacrifice plans to seek him out and thrust DVDs into his face, demanding they watch no less than five episodes. Maybe she did spend long hours with him in their respective rooms, comfortably sinking into his side as though he were a favorite cushion, and reading borrowed books with entirely too much noise and theatrics. Maybe she did touch him with an abundance of familiarity; always combing back his hair with an uncharacteristically gentle hand when she stood over him at the dining table, smiling down in that impish way over the rim of her coffee mug. 

And maybe, just maybe, him being second place in her heart could be good enough.

But it wasn’t. It wasn’t good enough, and him standing here watching her throw herself into the truest love she’d ever known was making him wonder if he was turning into a masochist. He’d gone from fourth place to second place in the span of four months, but there was no contest to win here. 

She wasn’t going to see him beyond what she already saw. 

The anger he felt over it was nothing surprising; rage flowed in place of blood within him, breathing life anew since his creation. The practiced habits and caricatured feelings his brothers instilled were just straw huts in the face of his anger. Senseless and selfish as he knew it was, it couldn’t be stoppered. That, at least, was a battle he was comfortable losing.

Facing the loneliness, though. That was…different. He’d never had a reason to before. To feel her warmth more than others, but still never be the thing that claimed it completely, felt like a cruelty to him, yet he clawed after it anyway. 

It wasn’t enough. This want was restless and hungry, a wolf pacing the line between shadow and cage bars, ready to lash out at anything resembling prey. 

To be second place behind something intangible, something only she saw fulfillment in, was worse than losing her to any demon. He couldn’t fight a love spun from her own ambition. He couldn’t outsmart a _concept_. He was falling and floundering, desperate for her, because he was never going to be the thing she needed to feel whole.

Satan laughed, a short, harsh sound that sounded more like a strangled bark. He was such a greedy fool. A sudden swell of empathy for Mammon managed to show itself before it was buried in the mire of his frustration. 

Scrubbing a hand against his face, he pushed himself off the door frame. He needed to leave. His thoughts were messy, his mind forcing ideas that bloomed from nonsense and unfamiliar roots. Anger he knew. This, whatever it was, meant too much and had no understanding to support it. 

Satan _hated_ not understanding things.

“You been standing there long?” A voice shattered the pull of the spiral he was tumbling into. His head jerked up, green eyes locking onto brown ones softened with amused curiosity. 

Evey stood in a pool of light, dabbing the sweat from her face with a towel. More of her hair had escaped from the topknot, and there was a fetching glow of pink behind the heavy dusting of her freckles. Her lips unfurled into a bright smile, parting for a laugh. 

She was always laughing. At him or with him, he didn’t care. It was just another drop of her he greedily gulped down.

“About ten minutes. I was on my way to the kitchen, but I stopped to watch.” His voice was smooth, the plastered smile seamless.

She approached him on a strange gait, her feet turned out in a way that made her resemble a funny little duck. Twisted as he felt now, he couldn’t help but chuckle at the sight. “How’d I do? It’s been awhile since I tried ten fouettés in a row. All the bullshit’s been making me rusty.”

“The bullshit being your classes, yes?” Something comfortable worked itself into the flow of their conversation. He was relieved to find his smile was becoming more natural.

“That’s just one part of the bullshit. There’s a lot of bullshit involved in my life here. It’s like a whole menagerie of bullshit, each more bullshitty than the last.” There went her hands, active as ever. She was spending too much time with Asmo. 

He felt himself step closer, and his words shifted into something teasing. “Well, perhaps if you didn’t keep sticking your nose in business that wasn’t yours…” 

Ugh, now he sounded like Lucifer. 

Her protest was immediate and exaggerated, dashing the observation with a laugh as she waved a finger in his face. “Whoa, hey. Hey. Hey. Listen here, dad-”

“Don’t call me dad.”

“Listen here, son. That’s important bullshit, okay? It’s _essential_ bullshit. You guys are special bullshit, and my involvement in it is a crucial part of my existence now.”

“Is it?” Damn his heart for reacting to that. 

“Of course it is.” Voice soft, she closed the gap between them, her long, thin arms snaking around his waist to pull him into a firm hug. She was ludicrously warm and the dampness of her sweat was bleeding through his clothes, but he didn’t care. She fit so perfectly against him, the curve of her forehead tucked under his chin like a puzzle piece. “I love you idiots. Because you’re _my_ idiots.” 

_‘I want it to be me. Only me,’_ the wolf howled behind the cage of his ribs, mournful and echoing until it was lost.

Satan sighed and held her even tighter. “You know, were it anyone else calling me that, my objection would involve quite a bit of fire.”

“And if you were someone who didn’t dress like you were about to go to a grade school PTA meeting, I might actually take that seriously.” 

He pulled back to blink down at her. She smiled so wide her cheeks forced her eyes shut. If his calming thoughts were any indication, her complete lack of fear was gradually transforming into a comfort rather than a concern. 

She laughed again, then rubbed her brow on his sweater until it was dry. Before he could protest, she twisted around him so her arm was hooked around the small of his back, allowing her to guide him out of the room. “I’m tired. Let’s go watch anime with Levi and make fun of the dialogue until he kicks us out.” 

He slung an arm around her shoulders, his longer stride shortening to keep an even pace. She felt so delicate under his touch, like the bones of a bird. “I thought Lucifer wanted to go over your make-up essay tonight?”

“What essay?” She grumbled, and he snorted. “Yeah, he’s been calling me all day. I’m about to shut the damn thing in the oven.” There was a pause as she suddenly groaned, her eyes rolling so far back in her head Satan wondered if she’d just caught a glimpse of her own brain. “Speak of the fuckin’ devil, my butt’s vibrating.” 

She fished her D.D.D from the side pocket on her thigh and stared at the screen, debating the wisdom of answering. When she finally hit the accept button, Satan could hear his eldest brother’s voice clearly.

_“Don’t hang up.”_

Evey hung up. 

Satan sniggered into his palm, warming with a surge of affection. “He’s going to kill you.”

“Yeah, probably.” She replied with the kind of flippancy he aspired to. “I’d say we got about five minutes before he goes on the prowl. Forget the anime, let’s go to that critter café and make this someone else’s problem.”

“Did you want to clean up first?”

“Nah. I gotta endure threats every day, folks can deal with my stank. It’s an even trade.” 

They left the dorm quickly, but the walk to the café was a slow, relaxed affair that gave Satan’s mind enough time to settle into something bearable. Evey walked beside him, her hand laced with his. She’d reassembled her hair into a smoother knot and thrown a sweater that was much too big over her leotard. With a stab of annoyance, he realized the sweater was too big because it belonged to Beel. 

“Why do you always wear my brother’s clothes, but never mine?” He asked with feigned casualness. “And don’t tell me it’s because you don’t have my permission. I know for a fact you don’t wait for theirs.” 

Evey shrugged. “I think it’s more funny when they bitch about it.”

She was a terrible liar. 

“Really? That’s the only reason?” He prodded.

“Also I’m not too keen on looking like I’m gonna take Junior out to the yard and toss the ol’ pigskin around.” 

“None of what you said made any sense, but I’m going to assume you’re saying that I dress like a dad again.” 

“You always were the smart one.” Cold closed over his hand when the heat of her own was suddenly ripped away. She’d only gone ahead to open the door for him, but that logic wasn’t enough to keep the wolf from snarling. When they stepped inside, he reached out to take her hand again, only to miss it when she wandered away to claim a table in the corner. 

Always running away from him. Always leaving him a few steps behind. 

The moment she sat down, she immediately bent to pull an enormously fat, orange tabby into her lap. It was purring like a hive of wasps by the time he sat across from her. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” He murmured.

“Sure I did. You just didn’t like the answer.” She countered, and rearranged the cat so that it sat upright, its back to her torso. She cupped its face in both hands and pressed in to exaggerate its natural grin. “Need me a cat like this. Just doesn’t give a single shit. That’s a good quality to have in a pet.” 

“Evey…”

“ _Satan_.” She mimicked with a nasal, mocking tone. “I just don’t wanna make you mad, alright? That’s it. No hidden meaning behind it.”

“You wouldn’t make me mad.” He said, a strange kind of hurt softening his words. The wolf growled low in his chest. “Are you frightened of me when I’m mad?” 

“I can’t think of a single entity in this entire realm who isn’t frightened of you when you’re mad. Except maybe Lucifer and Diavolo, and that’s only because they could turn you into paste.” She paused to fill her mug with the pot of coffee that had been dropped off for them. He’d been so focused on her, he hadn’t even noticed its appearance. “Mammon probably could, too, but…he’s usually too busy bitching over the injustices he faces to remember he’s actually pretty badass.” 

“Stop talking about my brothers.” He said, more forcefully than he intended. It seemed to shock Evey, who stopped the pour of her coffee so suddenly it splashed onto her sleeve.

“Whoa. You okay, blondie?” She always spoke so softly when it mattered, all traces of her brattiness gone like dispersed smoke. He’d rather she just yelled at him.

“…Yeah. I’m sorry. I’m just…I guess I’m in a mood today.” He answered lamely, dropping his head until it hung over his empty mug. 

She held the silence a bit longer, staring at him with eyes that always saw too much when the timing couldn’t be worse. Replacing the coffee pot, she stirred her cream and sugar in until it was almost white, but made no move to drink it once she was done. She simply held the warm cup between her palms, her gaze falling into the rippling surface. 

“You’ve been in a mood a lot lately.” She observed carefully, her words measured. “Are you and Lucifer fighting again?”

Satan sighed. “No. Well, no more than usual. It has nothing to do with Lucifer.”

“But it does have to do with something.” Now it was her turn to sigh. Pushing her mug to the side, she reached a hand out to cover his own. Her skin was soft and fragrant, but oddly clammy. She was nervous. Was she scared? Was that his fault? 

Was that why he was second place?

The cat had abandoned her lap at this point, allowing her to lean into the table. She was close enough that he could see the slight golden sheen in her lashes. He could count every freckle on her face and shoulders. He traced the lines and curves of her face with his eyes, wondering how a creature so fragile managed to survive this long in a world of monsters and demons. 

And yet she didn’t need him. 

Maybe she did at first. Maybe she was truly helpless that first month, when he hardly cared if she lived or died. Maybe she gave up and decided the only thing she really needed to be fine down here was herself. Maybe she threw herself into her dancing because there was nothing else she could throw herself into with the same amount of trust. 

Maybe, just maybe, he had failed her. 

All that knowledge, all those centuries of learning, and he was still just a mindless shadow of his brother’s wrath, worthless to the only thing he really cared about. 

“You don’t have to talk about it.” She was speaking again, startling him back to reality. “I know I’ve developed one hell of a reputation for being a busybody, but I sense this is something I need to back off on. So just…tell me whenever you want to tell me, okay?” 

That smile again. The wolf cried as it sank against the cage.

“It’s…there’s a lot to work out. A lot I need to think over.” 

She scooped his hand off the table and brought it to her lips, pressing a kiss that didn’t stop, even when she mumbled around it. “That’s fine. I can be patient for you.”

_You’re second place. Second place. Only second place…_

But maybe, just maybe, that was all he could be for now. 


End file.
